


Crow

by Aylarain



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Agent Kohn Gets a Guest Spot, F/M, Mild Smut, Teenage Jax/Tara
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 17:06:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19213801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aylarain/pseuds/Aylarain
Summary: Different reactions to Tara's tattoo over the years.





	Crow

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this originally back in 2009 _*pours one out for Livejournal*_. I recently took my stuff down from ffn.net so if it seems familiar, it could be from there.
> 
> I re-worked this one a bit because I still love the concept of it, but I thought I could improve upon what I wrote 10 years ago.

_six months_

“How come you didn’t get something, I don’t know… else? Why’d you get that?” Breanne asks, startling Tara from her Sociology reading.

_Fuck_. Tara looks down in dismay at the mark of her highlighter running off the page as her roommate starts questioning her again about the tattoo on her lower back. A lump rises in her throat because it hasn't been long enough that she can talk about anything to do with him. She’s only been at UCSD for two weeks. It’s only been a month since she last saw him.

“I don’t know, I saw it on the wall at the shop and liked it,” is all Tara offers and hopes that it’s enough.

“Really?” The slightly incredulous tone in Breanne’s voice implies that she doesn’t get it. There isn’t any amount of explanation that Tara could provide… if she could actually say the words… that would make Breanne understand about blonde-haired biker boys with too much MC loyalty.

“Yeah, really,” Tara responds and maybe she’s making progress because her voice doesn’t even wobble. 

Breanne has honestly been nothing but friendly, but she’s too curious. Asks too many questions Tara doesn’t want to answer. Tara keeps her pictures buried in her desk drawer. His t-shirts are balled up in the back of her closet.

The last night Breanne stayed in her boyfriend Troy's room, Tara gave in to her hurt and went to bed wearing Jax’s t-shirt. The next morning, she looked in the mirror at _SON_ scrawled across her chest and it was the reminder she needed that she couldn't go back. Jax didn’t choose her either.

“I’ve thought about getting one. I don’t know what, but I don’t think I’d get like, Troy’s name, or anything like that. Just in case, you know….” Breanne keeps going, but Tara stops listening. There’s more than just a lump rising in her throat now.

“Be right back,” she manages to get out before she’s up and moving to the door.

Halfway down the hall Tara has to run and she barely makes it into the bathroom stall in time before it feels like she’s purging more than just her dinner. She had no idea it would be this bad. Maybe she waited too long to tell him she was going. The last time she saw him Tara asked him to leave with her and he told her no. Jax refused to even consider leaving and he told her to forget about him if she did. Her last week in Charming he was too hurt and she was too angry and Tara never got her goodbye. 

Walking back to her room, she hopes Breanne has found something else to capture her attention. Her prayers are answered, sort of, when Tara walks in and she’s on the phone with Troy. She quietly packs up her backpack to take to the library. She can’t study in her room listening to her roommate flirt with her boyfriend.

She’s heard often enough that time heals all wounds. Tara isn’t sure how long she can wait.

 

_six years_

“When did you get this?”

Her breath catches when his fingers touch the small of her back. His finger traces the outline of a wing and she rolls over to face him. Hopefully, it comes across as if she just wants to look at him, but really she has to make him stop.

“It was a long time ago. I was young,” she ends it with a smile and a laugh that are forced just to make him think that she was young and foolish. She leans up for a kiss she no longer wants in hopes of distracting him.

“How old were you?” No such luck.

“Eighteen,” she lies. Tara was seventeen and the cut on Jax's back made up for what she lacked in age. However, she has no plans to tell that story, so it’s just easier to lie. 

Greg is a fellow med student she met three weeks ago. It isn’t the first time Tara's been in his bed, but it is the first morning she was still there to wake up with him. She knows he’s just curious. The design on her back isn’t what anyone that meets her now would expect to see. Greg can’t possibly be aware of the turmoil he’s causing her. It’s been over six years and she still can’t talk about him. 

“Does it mean anything?”

At that, Tara can’t even force the smile. She scoots closer pressing her body along his side, leaning in to bury her face in his neck and trace his collarbone with her tongue. She hopes he doesn’t notice the deep breaths she has to take through her nose.

“No.”

It meant everything. 

 

_ten years_

“I could pay for it you know.”

Her shirt rode up when she reached for a glass from the top shelf, giving Josh a glimpse of the mark on her back. Lately, he’s been badgering her to get it removed every time he sees it.

Anger flares up instantly and she has to turn away from him before he notices the redness rise in her cheeks. There’s no point in fighting with Josh, somehow he always wins, and she just wants the subject to drop.

“You know I can’t let you do that,” she manages to make her tone pleasant.

“I want to do this for you. I’m just trying to help you Tar Tar. It doesn’t fit with your career and the person you’ve become.” He’s walking over to her now and she flinches when his hand settles on the small of her back.

“Josh, please, it’s fine,” she stammers out, but she’s stuck on the word ‘become’. Sometimes he says things… things that don’t make sense. He’s only ever known the good-girl doctor, and she’s never gone into any kind of detail about her past, but she has this feeling Josh knows everything about her.

“Okay, okay,” he says with a chuckle and she knows this isn’t over, but she’ll take any reprieve.

“We’ll finish talking about this later, but for now, what’d you say I take you to dinner? Huh? You can put on that new blue dress I bought for you.” He drops a kiss to the top of her head and she closes her eyes and forces a smile.

Tara can’t pinpoint exactly when he started to make the cold feeling creep up her spine, but it isn’t going away and maybe… maybe she’s going to start paying it better attention.

 

_eleven years_

_"Tara,"_ he groans out her name against the skin of her back. She's lying on her stomach on his bed at the club. His tongue tracing black ink while two fingers crook deep in her cunt. 

They’re taking their time tonight. Learning bodies that have changed since they were teenagers. Jax acquainting himself with the fullness of her breasts and the roundness of her ass while Tara’s hands flex and release over muscle he didn’t have at 19.

"Still my girl," he says it low and almost quiet enough Tara isn’t sure she's supposed to hear it. He licks a thick stripe across _Forever_ and Tara blinks away a tear that catches her by surprise. It’s been years since she’s felt anything like this in bed with someone.

_“Jax,”_ she gasps when he slips in a third finger and the stretch along with his mouth sucking marks up her spine abates some of the emotion bubbling up in her chest.

When he is stretched out fully over her, head to toe, she lifts her hips just slightly so she can grind her ass back into his cock. “Jesus _Christ_ babe,” he hisses in her ear.

She reaches down to position him and pushes her hips back to finally get him inside of her. To fuck away all of this feeling that’s threatening to choke her. Something inside of her that’s been locked away for 11 years and Tara feels like she might burst. 

It took her so long to get over him only to come back to Charming and find out she never really did. 

Tara tries to push up onto her elbows to get more leverage and increase the pace, but Jax uses his weight to pin her down into the bed. _“Easy,”_ his voice thick with gravel in her ear. _“Breathe,”_ he tells her and the breath she didn’t realize was stuck in her chest releases with a sob. 

He grabs her hands and holds them stretched out just above her head when he finally starts to move. He’s not just fucking her like she wants. He’s fucking her with a reverence like this means something. Covering her body with his like he can physically keep the rest of the world away. Like he can keep her from leaving again.

It's entirely unfair. He is someone else's husband. Everything that was wrong with them 11 years ago still exists only now there’s a baby and murder topping the ever growing list of reasons why they should not do this.

But none of that shit exists here in this bed. Here where Jax is lying on top of her, thrusting slow and deep inside of her, calling her his girl, and god, what does it say about her that she probably always has been. 

 

_one day_

“Oww, oww, owwww,” she exclaims as Jax pulls the bandage off the day old tattoo on the small of her back. She’s standing between his legs, facing away, while he applies the ointment. He's a stickler for aftercare. 

“It does not still hurt,” he admonishes her, but his voice is light and she can see in the mirror he’s grinning from ear to ear.

“Yes, it does Jax!” She shudders when she thinks of how long it took to mark him SAMCRO.

“You just have no tolerance for pain,” he says, pushing her shirt up even further until she relents and pulls it up and over her head. 

She frowns, thinking about the bruising she glimpsed on his ribs earlier when his shirt rode up as he took his hoodie off. The wince he tried to hide when he sat on the bed behind her. 

“I don't really have a need for it.” She’s impatient to get her own look. His hands spanning her ribs haven’t moved and his knees on the outside of her thighs are caging her in even tighter. “Can I see it now?”

“Yeah,” his voice is soft and before she can move away he turns her around and pulls her down to press his lips firmly to hers, resting their foreheads together once he pulls away.

“Jax?” she questions him, because the look on his face is a little dazed.

“Go look." He pushes her gently towards the mirror and he’s smiling when he swats her on the ass, but his voice is a little rough and he isn’t quite meeting her eyes.

She turns around in front of the mirror on his dresser. The SAMCRO Old Lady crow stares back at her, black lines standing out stark against pale skin. 

“Wow,” she says quietly. Of course she saw it before, after it was finished at the tattoo parlour. It’s different here alone with him. 

“I know,” he replies.

She’s still looking back into the mirror when he stands and walks over to her. His arms come around her waist, fingers tracing just outside the black.

“So, this means I’m yours?” she asks, turning to look up into his eyes and now he meets her stare dead on. 

“ _Fuck yeah_ ,” he proclaims full of conviction. His hands grip her hips and pull her firmly up against his front where she can feel him hard in his jeans against her bare stomach. She puts her arms around his neck, grinding down on his thigh he's slipped between her legs, tangling her fingers in his blonde hair that now brushes the top of his shoulders. 

"I _want_ …," she starts, but his mouth cuts her off. Tongue delving between her lips and she sucks back just as hard. 

"I know, know, I got you babe," he murmurs. He guides her rolling hips and works his hands under her bra. She attempts to get his shirt off, but he keeps his arms locked down. Tries to distract her with his body rocking against her. Ever since their massive fight 2 months ago over his arrest, she knows Jax is hiding things he thinks will upset her. 

_“Mine,”_ he all but growls out against her lips as he unbuttons her jeans and she pushes them and her underwear down until she can kick them off while he unclasps her bra.

Hoisting herself up on the dresser she waits for him to push his jeans and boxers down past his hips before she’s pulling him into her. “Jax, Jax _please_ ,” she’s pleading and she kind of hates it, but today she doesn't need his fingers or his mouth. She's staggering just a little from the weight of his oath on her back and she just wants him inside of her, grounding her with his body. 

_"Fuckin' die without you,"_ he rasps into her hair. Tara's too focused on stroking her clit in time with the pump of his hips to give him an audible response. She can physically feel the tension in his body increasing and he isn't going to last long this time. 

The crow on her back says _Forever_. Tara might only be 17, but she knows that is what they are.


End file.
